I miss calloused fingers in the summer time
I miss campfires and pointing out the satellites
Your place or mine?
‘05 was paradise
Sweet sixteen, hickeys, made it past second base
Push-ups, crop top, then I don’t touch the birthday cake
Straighten my hair
And pray to God I’m the same
Now I flinch at the sound of my voice
All I desired, my ego destroyed
When the green in my eyes turns to grey, not so simple
Anymore, like before
I got bigger, and so did my name, not so little
Now that I’m in the thick of it
Devoted crowd, it’s funny how
Clearly I’m more than enough for the world
But never Victoria
I miss butterflies, the feeling of a drunken kiss
I miss open mics and living off of twenty quid
Twelve-to-twelve shift
I’ll wonder if this is it
Does anybody love me or not?
Does anybody want what I’ve got?
Sucker for fame, I got a taste
They’re singing my praises
But the more that they say it
The more I won’t measure up
When the green in my eyes turns to grey, not so simple
Anymore, like before
I got bigger, and so did my name, not so little
Now that I’m in the thick of it
Devoted crowd, it’s funny how
Clearly I’m more than enough for the world
But never Victoria
There’s a world, where she sits on a barstool, sipping Chardonnay
Victoria stays, bends, and breaks for a man like an old cliché
But I saw her ghost, set her free
She’s taking one for the team
I let her go, but she’s keep on following me
When the green in my eyes turns to grey, not so simple
Anymore, like before
I got bigger, and so did my name, not so little
Now that I’m in the thick of it
Devoted crowd, it’s funny how
Clearly I’m more than enough for the world, even my girl
And I’ll find my worth
But never Victoria
Other lyrics by Towa Bird:
69 BPM
Can I read between your lines? Feel your echo on my palm You’re the one I want if I ever need someone Body like the hills of Medellin Bend you over while I make you …
Afterglow
Eyes closed Your body’s so deep In your linen sheets Can’t barely breathe We’re so close A sweeter kind of sin Will you let me in? I’m holding on …
All Gone
(feat. Kathleen Hanna) More, more, more More More More Baby got, got me ticking like a stop clock Baby got, got me dripping like a washcloth Baby got, got the high socks …
Daisy
There you go Have it your way I’ll compromise for a disco ball I suppose Whatever you say I guess I should trust you after all Don’t you look at me like that …
Dirty Habit
Twenty-four living in your family home Call in the help so that you’re never alone It’s so hard in your Beverly Hills Guess you’ll never really know …